


baby.

by theableboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crossdressing, Drabble, Impala Sex, M/M, Poetry, Self Confidence Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 19:02:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16247894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theableboy/pseuds/theableboy
Summary: mole-faced, sweetie pie-eyes, but dean is sure he fell in love way before.





	baby.

 

 

 

dean remembers sam in patches of violent bursts.

 

he remembers the flesh of leather, open and scarred, laid out beneath him with shame 

and,

“sam, sam what the fuck, you just slashed up baby!” 

 

a prurient boy’s smirk, a curious raise of a brow and yet,

still, 

sam’s lips press against his with the same exact shame as he whispers back,

 

“you called me baby first”

 

dean claws, mangles with desire.

itches with the tips of his fingers, but carves with the very ends,

 

and 

sam above him, is settled like accumulating rain in the groove of a gutter.

  
  


he remembers a set of baby hands and spit-up, soiled onto dads oversized band-t.

he remembers the empty feeling of expected anger 

and an even more empty motel room, curdling the pureness of dean's love with

stale and half-drunk alcohol shots 

 

“hush, little baby” 

 

a finger, braided into thin baby locks,

dean nestles his head there, kisses the skin.

 

“i'll love you forever. as long as im living, my baby you'll be.”

  
  
  


a tub filled with pink and an innocent pre-teen muttering a dull apology,

 

“stop, sam. god, you could have gotten yourself killed.” 

 

mole-faced, sweetie pie-eyes,

but dean is sure he fell in love way before.

 

“but you saved my ass, didn't you? just like always.”

 

a splash of bloody water and a giggle that says forgiveness.

 

dean carries sam to bed in bandages and his biggest flannel. 

  
  


a month after sam turns 16, dean finds his initials scratched into corrupt hipbone,

 

written there like an entry in a locked-up journal, stowed away with disgust

but never discarded. 

 

D.W, in fat permanent marker, leaking ink into pages after it. 

 

and dean, 

in the flesh, hands falling like magnets to the open wound,

 

“sam, sam you didn't.”

 

“i wanted to have something beautiful about me.”

 

for a moment dean didn't understand, 

for a moment dean understood everything.

  
  
  
  


dean knows his brother from the inside to the out.

 

he's been to both places, multiple times.

 

he supposes it's like a fledgling, opening its wings for the first time, 

when sam comes undone,

body arched, a soaring free thing.

 

so 

palms array in search,

dean, 

clutches bone, trapped beneath tight skin,

 

and discovers lost wings, craving to unravel.

  
  
  


dressed in pink, satin flows,

and 

against the mirror reflection is a boy, elegant in stride but lost in himself. 

 

sam,

brushing soft curls behind his ears, looks over.

 

“you'll love me like this, won't you?”

 

“i'll love you any way you give me, sam.” 

  
  


on the stretch of open road, potholes and cracked cement,

a car with memories kissed into each part, is tipped on its side 

 

a man, 

gravel voice; overgrown with beard and scars, 

stares softly at a patchwork of damaged body across from him,

reaches an arm out and grabs a hand that cannot feel and whispers,

 

so slight, but carried with tremor,

 

“i'll call you baby last, too.”


End file.
